


Stay With Me

by ferix79



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood and Injury, Carrying, Claustrophobia, Gladio carrying Prom specifically, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Quite a lot, SO much Prompto Whump, Stitches, Vomiting, Whump, tw for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79
Summary: Prompto gets injured in the Crestholm Channels, so the boys must help him out of the depths of the sewer while his claustrophobia comes in waves.





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaijuscientists](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaijuscientists/gifts).



> A request for Kaijuscientists, who [bought me a coffee on ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/A175LK5)! I can not say thank you enough! If anyone else would like to buy one and then make a request go right ahead!
> 
> Their request was hurt/comfort dealing with Prompto's claustrophobia.

If Prompto thought back to their descent into the Crestholm Channels, it really wasn’t too bad. Yeah, the water stunk because they were in a sewer, and there were demons _frigging everywhere_ , but that wasn’t anything his starshell couldn’t fix.

The constant battles and wrong turns on account of Noctis were beginning to wear on his patience—and their supply of elixirs. He couldn’t really blame the other boy—this place was a maze and every slimy, wet wall looked the same—but Prompto was sure they’d been there for more than a day now and they _still_ hadn’t reached the bottom, much less their inevitable climb back up. At the very least, his claustrophobia wasn’t acting up yet. The channels were enclosed by thick cement walls, but the chambers themselves were rather open, with plenty of walkways and tunnels and such.

That was until Noctis finally got them back on track.

“I think we need to cross this way,” Noctis said, pointing across a pipe no wider than two feet that ran the length of the chamber, “That’s the only direction we haven’t gone yet, and there isn’t any other way around it.”

Ignis, his dress shirt now a dirty brown rather than the light gray it had been when they entered, didn’t say a word and proceeded to walk right across the pipe like he was crossing the street. Noctis was taken aback at the air of annoyance permeating off the other man, but followed him across the pipe nonetheless, motioning for the other two to follow.

But Prompto’s feet were glued to the platform. He could already hear his heart pounding out of control—there was no way he was crossing that way. For the first time it wasn’t the walls triggering him, but the narrow width of the pipe. If he took just _one wrong step he’d fall all the way back down and there was nothing to grab on to nothing to save him—_

“Prom,” Gladio’s baritone pulled him back, as did the hand on his waist, “I’ll help you cross. This really is the only way forward, so there’s no getting around it. Trust me, okay?”

He did trust Gladio, and the big guy was the only one offering help, so he was out of luck, otherwise. They crossed with Prompto leading while Gladio shuffled behind him, both hands steady on his smaller waist. Logically, it didn’t make any sense. If Prompto fell wouldn’t Gladio just be pulled along with him? The thought made his lungs flutter and heave in fear, desperate for air that wasn’t full of mold and muck. Gladio was probably ignoring the hyperventilation happening under his palms out of politeness, Prompto thought. Logic meant nothing to the fear gnawing at his brain, though, and the comforting weight of hands on his waist assuaged the panic for now.

They continued on once they were all on the other side, and discovered that by sheer dumb luck they’d unlocked a rather intricate door that led further down into the sewer. Noctis, without any concern for his wellbeing, jumped right on down the sewer slide, soon followed by an exasperated Ignis. Prompto wasn’t interested in getting his underwear any more soaked than it already was, but they had no other options. After a nod from Gladio he jumped down.

The giant, snake-dragon monster that, as far as Prompto was concerned, burst out of the seventh layer of hell, shouldn’t have been too much for them to handle. The beast was a challenge, no doubt, but they could take it.

 _Except_ for the fact that it had razor sharp spikes all over its body.

And Prompto ran out of bullets at an inopportune time.

And was subsequently tail-slammed face first into a grime-covered cement wall, the force of the hit knocking him out cold as blood poured from his nose and a gash across his forehead.

“Prompto, wake up!” Gladio shouted as he dodged one of the beast’s fireballs, assuming Prompto had just been stunned, but a second glance told him that his partner would not be getting up anytime soon. Dismissing his sword back into the armiger, he sloshed across the room with all the speed his water-logged boots could muster.

He made it over to Prompto just before his blood-gushing nose sunk in to the murky water, and thank-fucking-Shiva for that. He pushed the thought of Prompto drowning in eight inches of water out of his mind, and set about stabilizing Prompto as best he could. The boy was dead weight in his arms, so Gladio hoisted him up and moved over to one of the cement platforms lining the room, leaning him against the wall to sit upright. Right, risk of drowning: removed. Now for the blood.

His shirt was nowhere near clean, but it was his only hope for stopping the blood given the circumstances. The blood dribbling out of Prompto’s nose was his first target, and once that was wiped away he pinched the boy’s nose closed. While he prayed for the nosebleed to run its course quickly he pressed his shirt to the gash decorating Prompto’s forehead. He didn’t want to admit it, but the wound looked like it needed stitches. No time for that, now; he had to stay by Prompto and ensure he made it out alive.

“Noctis!” he screamed across the room, “We need to finish this up! Let’s go!” A dirty tank top wasn’t going to save Prompto from blood loss or infection; they needed to get out of the damned sewer _now._

He was sure Noctis was groaning or bitching about his command, but a few moments later a multi-cast blizzara exploded behind him. Well, at least he was listening. The beast roared as it experienced freezer-burn on a grand scale and then collapsed into the pool of water below, casting a mini-tsunami around the room.

Gladio watched from a distance as Ignis and Noctis rounded the beast, debating if any of its whiskers or mane would be valuable to cut off and sell. “Hey! Over here!” he yelled again, and as soon as the two saw Gladio holding up Prompto’s prone form they sprinted over.

“That thing’s tail caught ‘im in the face,” Gladio explained once they were within range, answering the question obviously written on both their faces, “The nose bleed will go away, but you might have to stitch up his forehead, Iggy. I don’t think my fingers are steady enough to do the job.”

Ignis nodded and moved around Gladio, lifting just a bit of the balled-up tank top to get an estimation of the wound. Noctis crouched on Prompto’s other side, worrying at his lip while he tried to think of some way to help.

“Heavens,” Ignis gasped as he set the cloth back into place, “You’re correct, though. Could you fetch the first aid kit, Noct?”

“Yeah,” he was quick to say, but then shuffled through a number of items in the armiger in his haste to find the kit. His tackle box, Ignis’ set of knives, and the box that held the spare camping tools appeared before he finally ripped the first aid kit out in frustration.  

“Hey, keep it cool prince charmless,” Gladio said, placing a hand over Noctis’ as Ignis peeled the tank top away from Prompto’s forehead, “Prom’s gonna be fine. There’s no use abusing your magic any more than you already do.” Noctis did not answer, but tried his best to look offended. It wasn’t working—concern and fear were winning out on his features.

 Ignis cast the ruined shirt aside and opened the first aid kit, digging out a few antiseptic wipes first. Gladio keeping pressure on the gash had helped, the bleeding was quite sluggish, but the wound itself was filthy. Even with the cleansing wipes, he knew he couldn’t clean the wound entirely.

“Noct,” Ignis said, trying to keep his voice even as he tore open one of the wipes, “I need you to hold his arms. Not hard, but in case he wakes up and panics. And perhaps Gladio could help with his legs? If I’m going to stitch him up I need him as still as possible, especially since we have no way of numbing him.”

“O-okay,” Noctis mumbled, placing his hands on Prompto’s forearms. Not forceful, like Ignis said, just a steady weight.

Ignis began dabbing away at the grime and the gash with the wipe, dirtying the first within seconds and reaching for another, “Good, now just stay there and we hope he doesn’t wake up.”

Prompto, inevitably, did wake up, but at least he didn’t see Ignis threading the needle.

As he woke, his mind fuzzy with pain, his first conscious thought was that his nose hurt. His nose hurt and he couldn’t breathe through it. All thoughts were thrown aside, though when his brain registered that his head felt like it had been hit by a train.

Noctis, just as he’d been told to do, held down Prompto’s arms when he tried to reach for his head wound. The restraint caused Prompto’s eyes to fly open, frantically searching for the cause of the restriction. His eyes landed on Noctis, and even though he knew and loved and trusted Noct, he did _not_ want to be held down for a second longer.

“N-noct, please let go,” he whimpered, shaking his head as tears sprung to his eyes, “P-please, I don’t know what’s going on but please let me go.”

It was Noctis’ turn to panic as he watched visceral fear flood his partner’s eyes. He didn’t care what Iggy wanted; he wasn’t going to hold down a pleading, desperate Prompto.

“Whoa, hey, it’s alright,” he let go of Prom’s arms, opting instead to hold his hands to keep him from touching his forehead, “You just got hurt; you’ve got a pretty bad cut on your forehead and Iggy needs to stitch it closed. We didn’t want you trying to grab at it and hurting yourself,” he explained, though the distant look in Prompto’s eyes worried him.

“Why’s Gladio holding my nose?” he asked, his eyes straying to man beside him.

“Nose bleed,” Gladio redirected his attention without a beat, trying to keep him focused, “it’ll stop soon, so don’t worry about it.” Iggy was going to put stitches in him whether he liked it or not, so they needed to get to the point and get it over with.  

Ignis didn’t have any patience for twenty questions either, since the gash was still oozing blood. “Prompto,” he began, keeping his voice gentle, “I need to stitch up your forehead so we can get out of here. We don’t have anything to numb you. If you don’t want Noctis to hold your arms, how can we help you so this goes quick and easy? Because painless isn’t an option.”

Prompto winced at Ignis’ blunt words. Forming coherent thoughts in the mush of his brain was already hard enough. He didn’t have the coherence to explain how holding his arms made his claustrophobia go into overdrive, but Noctis’ hands did feel nice in his. They were the only nice thing about this whole ordeal.

“What if Noct sits on my lap, and I’ll hold onto his hands?” He suggested, hoping that all made sense. He didn’t trust his ears to correctly relay the words coming out of his mouth back to his brain. Wow, even thinking about that idea sent his mind for a whirl. Had Ignis answered already?

Apparently, because Gladio was shifting to his other side and Noct was already in his lap. He rested most, but not all, of his weight on Prompto’s thighs and held his hands close, looking at him with pity like it would make the needle hurt less. It didn’t.

Having a needle and thread pulled through his skin felt about as nice as it sounded, which to say it was horrible. He squeezed Noctis’ hands and clenched his jaw and let his tears flow without restraint, because it fucking _hurt_ and he’d be damn proud of himself if he could get through all the sutures without screaming himself hoarse. He did manage that, in the end, but not without any short amount of tears, whimpers and outright cries of pain. Ignis dabbed another antiseptic wipe over the gash when he was done, cleaning up the little bits of blood that had pooled during the procedure.

“You did great, Prom,” Noctis encouraged, wiping away his tears while Gladio cleaned the blood out of his nose, “As soon as we get you out of here we’ll find some painkillers and potions. But you did so well, you’re going to be fine.”

Prompto wanted to believe him. He really did.

They didn’t trust him—and he didn’t trust himself—to climb a thirty foot ladder without falling, so he ended up clutched against Gladio’s chest like a baby monkey holding on to its mother. The maneuvering was awkward and slow, but Gladio’s long limbs proved their worth as he hauled himself up onto the first landing with Ignis’ help.

Demons swarmed in the next room, but Noct put up a barrier in the doorway while the three of them slipped past and into a narrow, winding staircase. Gladio asked him if he wanted to walk while he could, but Prompto responded by burying his head into his chest. His hands were quaking as they scrambled for purchase around Gladio’s shoulders. Luckily, Gladio could help hold his weight when they weren’t climbing a ladder, so he didn’t need to worry about falling. He _did_ need to worry about how narrow the passage was, though, and how the room spun when he closed his eyes.

The next room held more demons and they couldn’t escape a fight, this time. Gladio stayed with Prompto up on a higher platform, hiding behind one of his massive shields while Ignis and Noct slayed the demons.

“Look, Prom, you’re alright,” Gladio encouraged him to open his eyes, “we’re not in the tunnel anymore. There’s space here, and two doorways. We’re gonna get you out fine, yeah?” Knowing there were doorways helped. Still being underground, though, didn’t.

They climbed another ladder after that, this one much shorter. Despite Gladio’s efforts he decided to keep his eyes closed, even if it made him dizzy and nauseous. He’d be fine once they got to the surface, he told himself, and everything would make more sense on solid ground where people were supposed to be.

Demons interrupted their progress three more times, but Gladio held him fast during every encounter. The clang of swords and roar of demons was disorienting, bouncing off the walls, and only served to heighten his panic. Sucking in a breath was becoming increasingly difficult, and the lack of oxygen made his chest hurt while strange shapes and colors bloomed behind his eyes.

They were in the middle of climbing another ladder when his lungs finally gave in and Prompto forced his eyes open. Wait, that didn’t make any sense; why would his eyes being open affect his breathing? Phobias were not rational creatures, though, and as his vision blurred back in to focus he did find it a little easier to breathe.

But—

Prompto gasped so loud it startled Gladio, and one hand flew off the ladder rung to grasp onto his back and hold him steady. Prompto had gone stiff like he was hit with a petrification spell with no warning, and wouldn’t it just be the icing on the cake to fall off the ladder not ten feet from their freedom.

“Prompto—”

The boy in his arms was gasping for air like he was being choked within an inch of his life. He could feel Prom’s heart hammering against his own chest and the grip around his shoulders was weakening. Oh hell no. This was _not_ about to happen on his watch, he was _not_ about to fail Prompto after coming this far.

Gladio hiked Prompto’s legs up higher around his waist and put but hands back on the ladder. Just a few more feet to go. “Get ready, Iggy!” he called up ahead, where Ignis waited with a helping hand. In just a few moments he blazed through the last rungs of the ladder and burst through to open air of the world above. He wasn’t a second too soon, either, as Ignis grabbed hold of Prompto’s slipping grip and _pulled_ until the boy was safe on solid ground.

Gladio collapsed next to them, his arms and legs burning in exertion, but relief swelled in his chest. He’d done it—he’d supported his partner all the way through the dungeon and saw him to safety. Being the shield of the king, and the shield of their little quad, such an accomplishment made him proud.

Meanwhile, Noctis crested the ladder just in time to see Prompto—heaving and only held up by Ignis—vomit into the gravel surrounding the exit. The horrible retching drew Gladio’s attention, too, and the larger man flipped over in haste, moving to help Ignis get Prom away from the spreading puddle of bile.

“I’m-m…I’m okay,” Prompto stuttered as they sat him up against a wall nearby. Even if he looked anything but, the fresh air and open sky above him was helping him calm down.

“Yes, you are okay. Is there anything you need, Prompto?” He’d talked Prompto down from panic attacks before, so the boy talking himself down was a welcome change. The sooner they could get him up and walking the sooner they could get him proper medical care. Noctis sat down next to them, brushing Prompto’s sweat soaked bangs off his forehead.

“Some water…would be nice…” he said between breaths, feeling like he’d just sprinted a mile.

Ignis kept his fingers pressed to the inside of Prompto’s wrist, feeling for his pulse as a gauge for how calm he was. His other hand buffered Prom’s head from the rough brick wall, drawing lazy circles into the back of his head. “There’s water in the Regalia, do you think you can make it there?”

“Uh…”Prompto’s eyes rolled over to the stairway—one of quite a few that led back up to the Crown City checkpoint. From his angle it looked insurmountable.

“We can help you up,” Noctis blurted out, but Gladio was quick to counter him.

“ ‘We’ better include Ignis and Noct, because Gladio needs a short break,” he groaned, grasping his hands behind his back and stretching, “Gods, I love you all but my arms feel like murder.”

“No worries,” Ignis chuckled, trying to keep up a positive front for Prompto, “I think I can manage.”

Prompto took Ignis’ words and latched on them just like he latched on to Ignis. Noctis gripped his waist and helped Ignis stand, and once all was stable they began the ascent back up to street level. Ignis’ steps were slow and careful as they went, assuring his footing on every step before proceeding.

Once they arrived back at the Regalia Ignis sat him down in the backseat and a bottle of water, courtesy of Gladio, was immediately in his hands. Noctis slid into the back next to him, helping him uncap the bottle and hold it to his lips. Two more car doors shut and the Regalia roared to life, Ignis maneuvering them back onto the road for the short drive back to Hammerhead.

Prompto gasped in relief once the bottle was nearly empty, letting his arms fall down into his lap. “Thanks, dude,” he said, and Noctis laughed while he screwed the cap back on.

“Hey, anytime,” he pressed a kiss to Prompto’s temple just as his partner began to sway. He gripped Prompto’s shoulders and guided him down into his lap, running his hands through Prom’s hair in the hopes that he could work just a little of the tension out of his pained expression before they got back to Hammerhead.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is actually a sort of prequel to [a scene in Cidney's chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9393614/chapters/21548945) of another one of my fics, _No Need to Play Pretend_. You don't have to read that chapter or fic to understand this, but if you liked this fic I suggest you go read that chapter to see what happens next!
> 
> [my tumblr](http://ferix-writes.tumblr.com/)


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